COUSIN PHILLIS. 63
she might be kept, and not be home till dinner. Don't you think you ought to go and see how Mr. Holdsworth is going on, Paul? He may be faint again."
I went at her bidding; but there was no need for it. Mr. Holdsworth was up, standing by the window, his hands in his pockets; he had evidently been watching us. He turned away as I entered.
"So that is the girl I found your good father planning for your wife, Paul, that eyening when I interrupted you! Are you of the same coy mind still? It did not look like it a minute ago."
"Phillis and I understand each other," I replied, sturdily." We are like brother and sister. She would not have me as a husband if there was not another man in the world; and it would take a deal to make me think of her — as my father wishes" (somehow I did not like to say "as a wife"), "but we love each other dearly."
"Well, I am rather sui*prised at it — not at your loving each other in a brother-and- sister kind of way — but at your finding it so impossible to fall in love with such a beautiful woman."
Woman! beautiful woman! I had thought of Phillis as a comely but awkward girl; and I could not banish the pinafore from my mind's eye when I tried to picture her to myself. Now I turned, as Mr. Holdsworth had done, to look at her again out of the window: she had just finished her task, and was standing up, her back to us, holding the basket, and the basin in it, high in air, out of Rover's reach, who was giving vent to his delight at the probability of a change of place by glad leaps and barks, and snatches at what he imagined to be a with-held prize. At length she grew tired of their mutual
